Is one of the biggest pop stars in the world really just a sweet Canadian boy who loves his mum? Style meets the pint-size Justin Bieber

O
h my days, I’ve got an audience with Justin Bieber. Will he be tiny? Does he
really look like a lesbian? Does he use words of more than one syllable? The
giddiness mounts as I hurry through reception at the Abbey Road studios,
past the phalanx of security guards and down some stairs into the
carpet-walled basement where we will talk about his new perfume, Girlfriend,
for that is what he is here to flog. I can feel the air thinning by the
sheer force of a nearby mega-celebrity. Or is that just the soundproofing?

Outside a door there’s a cluster of publicists and assistants trying to look
important. The door clicks open. For some reason Nick Grimshaw comes out.
“See you, Justin,” he shouts, but there’s no audible response. The door
shuts and we wait. “He’ll be 10 minutes.” “He’s nearly ready.” “He’s having
a Nando’s.”